


In which Agatha won't reward bad behavior

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [9]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi, OT3, Post-Canon, more bite marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: Immediately following Opening Night. It's a good night.





	In which Agatha won't reward bad behavior

Agatha’s two consorts lay sleeping in her bed, their hands just touching. Gil sprawled over enough space for three people, and he had halfway buried his head beneath a pillow. Tarvek curled slightly inward, one knee and one elbow drawn toward his stomach, as though he could defend himself even in his sleep. Tonight he also curled toward the large mass of protective warmth that was Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. His hair covered his face, but he probably looked unusually serene beneath it. 

Something had broken between him and Gil. A wall had come down, and now they reached for each other more, touched more. They gave longing looks, like new lovers. Like they hadn’t fought and bled and wept for each other for most of their lives. Agatha smiled. Those two were perfectly adorable in every way. And they were hers.

Gil’s splendid new waistcoat draped almost carelessly over the back of a chair. He looked so delicious in the thing, she and Tarvek had scarcely managed to wait to peel it off of him. Attraction, Agatha found, was never logical. That they’d left him fully dressed until returning from the theatre should count for something, she supposed, though halfway through the first act they’d both had fingers underneath Gil’s buttons. Then they had all been distracted by some fascinating stage effects, which they’d attempted to recreate during intermission. They had only singed the curtains a little. Still, she suspected that Jenka might make them turn out their pockets before the next show. What a night. What fun they’d had.

Tarvek sighed in his sleep, and he took firmer hold of Gil’s hand. Agatha pressed her lips shut tight against a soft cry. Until recently, she had never known how much happiness could hurt. It filled her up until her chest ached and her hands trembled, and sometimes she thought maybe she would die of it. Sometimes she wanted to lash out, to strike others with the force of her joy.

And once in a while she just had to get out of bed in the middle of the night.

Turning to her vanity mirror, she shrugged one shoulder out of her silk dressing gown. There on her skin, a perfect impression of Gil’s teeth had already begun turning purple. She remembered the moment almost too clearly, sharp like a shard of glass. Tarvek’s hands had slid up her sides, over her ribs. Gil had pulled her closer to him, his breath hot on her shoulder, his lips soft. Then Tarvek had shifted just a little, just enough, and Gil’s teeth had snapped closed. She remembered his soft growl turning to a gasp of surprise as she’d pushed his head to the side and she bit him right back.

It felt good, she had to admit. She enjoyed the salt of his skin and the firm resistance of flesh between her teeth. Best of all, however, was that sound he’d made, his gasp quickly fading into a groan of ecstasy. Her breath quickened just remembering it. She glanced back at the bed.

Gil had burrowed farther under his pillow, and he gripped Tarvek by the wrist rather than by the hand. Tarvek had curled closer to him, had his free hand covering Gil’s hand on his arm. A flash of protective fury burned through her. Protective, and vengeful. She wanted to hunt down every single person who had ever hurt either of her consorts, and she wanted to destroy them. She wanted to leave them broken wrecks of their former selves, weak and weeping and bleeding, unable to do harm ever again.

What would Gil think of that?

Tarvek, she knew, would find the idea rather flattering. Gil just worked so hard at goodness and other such virtues. He would never let her punish people for his sake. Would he even take the thought as the expression of love she meant it to be? She sighed. Sometimes she thought yes. Sometimes. But sometimes she convinced herself that he would launch into a rant about ethics, as he used to do to Tarvek.

Precious Gil. Precious, simple Gil. Her attention returning to the mirror, Agatha admired her new bruise for a while longer. Gil had resisted biting her for so long. Why? Agatha had no answer, but that Gil had so many hangups she could very nearly use them to organize her tools. He belonged to her, and he yielded to her will much of the time, but he balked at the oddest moments.

Tarvek understood better. He also made for a most adventurous lover, which helped her keep her patience with Gil. When Gil retreated from a particularly intense moment. When Gil gave them that blank face of confusion. When Gil lost patience with himself.

Oh, Tarvek was far from perfect himself, but at least Agatha understood when he faltered. Everything, even the smallest hesitation of his, it all came down to trust with him. Whether he could trust. How much it terrified him that he did. He would hate knowing that Agatha found him the more predictable of her consorts.

“Agatha?”

She turned away from her mirror. Gil squinted groggily at her. He had propped himself up on both elbows, but she noticed how his fingertips still lingered on Tarvek’s arm. Her lower lip caught between her teeth, Agatha let her gaze wander over his exquisite physique. “Hmm?”

“Are you…” Gil glanced at her shoulder, then quickly glanced away. “Ah, I mean…” Color rose in his cheeks. “Are you well?”

There. Hangups. Agatha screwed her face up into an expression of annoyance. “Gil.” She prowled toward him. “Precious Gilgamesh. My darling dumpling, my latke.” She had one knee up into the bed, and she trailed her fingertips over his shin. “Are you asking if you’ve DAMAGED me?”

Gil stalwartly avoided meeting her gaze. “Well. Ah… Yes?”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “You would have noticed if you’d torn out a chunk of flesh.” She enjoyed watching him flinch from her words, which she realized belatedly was probably a little mean-spirited, but his reaction did confirm that Gil thought he might do precisely that.

“It’s not… I mean, I could,” Gil said, swerving at the last moment from a reflexive lie.

“You won’t.” Agatha could feel a fight brewing, like heavy clouds in the distance. They could still avoid it—

“You don’t know that.”

Well, fine.

“Yes, I do know.” Agatha felt her nostrils flare with her rising anger. “You’ve never yet done more than bruise Tarvek!”

“That’s different.” Gil looked guilty. Agatha pursued the thought.

“HOW is it different? Do you think I’m more FRAGILE than he is?”

Gil eyed her with an expression approaching fear, an expression similar to Tarvek’s Don’t Hit Me face. Tarvek always looked like that when he knew he had done wrong. Gil kept trying, the poor thing. “No?”

Agatha smiled a smile that mostly just bared her teeth. “Then how is it different?” she repeated.

“Um.” Gil leaned a little away from her. “Nepotism?”

Some of Agatha’s wrath ebbed into disgust. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even bother trying to tell me that you love me more than you love him. Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“Everyone?”

Agatha took in his widened eyes and blanched face. Apparently, Gil did not know.

“Sorry to side with Gil on this one, but everyone else knows?”

They both stared at Tarvek, who still lay with his eyes closed. “Oh, we woke him.” Agatha shot a glare at Gil, who managed to look guiltier than he had before.

Tarvek’s lips curved into a smirk. “As though I would ever miss an opportunity to enjoy a fight between the two of you.”

“This!” Gil gestured at Tarvek. “This is why nepotism!”

“I know. I’m so adorable you want to crush me.”

Agatha poked Tarvek in the ribs. “You’re not helping.”

He opened one eye, just so he could arch an eyebrow at her. “Was I supposed to help?”

Agatha looked at him, all pale skin against her dark sheets, and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to nibble him all over. She put the thought away for later. Now was no time to reward bad behavior.

“Adorable has nothing to do with it,” Gil grumbled.

“Ah, so I AM adorable.” Mischief and delight mingled in Tarvek’s grin. “Perhaps you DO love me as much as you love Agatha.”

Gil scowled at him. “You stop that.”

“Stop what? Being adorable, or being right?”

Agatha flopped down on the bed between them, and she jabbed her finger into Tarvek’s ribs again. “You stole my fight,” she complained.

“It was an accident.”

Agatha did not believe him.

“I thought you did everything on purpose.” There, Gil had him cornered now. Agatha looked to Tarvek, eager for his response.

“You’ve confused planning for every contingency with planning everything.” Tarvek gave Gil a smug smile. “It’s an easy mistake to make.”

Agatha felt Gil tense beside her. This is fine, she thought as she braced for a round of shouting. Instead, Gil surprised her with a thoughtful silence.

“So you DON’T plan everything?” he said at last, his tone somewhat hushed.

“Heavens, no. How would I even do that?”

Agatha felt Gil’s stare, calculating, assessing. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, “but I have every confidence you’ve tried.”

“Yes, and that went so well for me.” This time it was Tarvek’s tone that soured. “Ending up homeless and infected with Hogfarb’s Resplendent Immolation was really the opposite of my objective.” He looked into Agatha’s eyes as he said it, a silent appeal. I hurt you before I knew how much it would hurt me to hurt you. Forgive me. And for the thousandth time, she did.

“That sounds a little like you just admitted to messing up.”

“Don’t start with me, Wulfenbach.”

Agatha wondered if Gil caught the glint of humor in Tarvek’s eyes. Likely not.

“Or you’ll what?” Gil drew the words out, savoring each one. Perhaps he was playing after all.

Tarvek gave a broad smirk. Then he slid one arm around Agatha’s waist inside her dressing gown. She shivered at the touch. Tarvek pulled her close, nudged fabric aside, and licked her fresh bite mark.

Agatha gasped. It hurt a little, but in a nice way. Behind her, she heard Gil suck a sharp breath through his teeth, a breath that escaped him in a sound that was half growl and half whimper. Oh, yes please. Make him do that again.

“That’s cheating.” Gil sounded breathless now, probably fighting for composure.

“Yeah?” Tarvek had begun kissing Agatha’s neck. “Why don’t you come over here so I can lick yours, too?”

Nobody flirted like Tarvek. Nobody else could get her blood racing with anticipation like he did. She couldn’t hear Gil’s stammered reply over the thundering in her ears, but she hoped Gil felt the same way.

Gil’s hand sliding up her back suggested that Tarvek had him intrigued, at least. Agatha leaned back from Tarvek, leaned into the caress. Gil rumbled against her hair. Another delicious shiver raced through her.

Wait. “Wasn’t I cross with you?”

“Yes,” Gil replied quickly, his breath hot on her ear. “I’m an idiot, and I hope you want to forgive me.”

Wow. Agatha glanced at Tarvek, who looked proud. “Did you…” Another caress made her voice falter. “Did you teach him that?”

“Hey!”

Tarvek grinned. “I’d like to think so.”

“You’d like to. But you’d be wrong.” Gil sounded smug against her ear. “I know how you hate that.”

“It’s so rare.”

As much as Agatha enjoyed a little sparring between the two of them, she felt a bit wary of being pressed between them for it. On the other hand, those fingernails moving in light circles over her hip were rather distracting. “Both of you…” Her voice came out breathy rather than commanding. How annoying.

“Anything for you, my love,” Tarvek murmured. Gil exhaled noisily through his nose.

“Do you HAVE to do that?”

“The flirting? Of course I do. It’s my nature.”

Agatha squirmed, her discomfort growing as the hand on her hip stilled.

“Is it?” Gil’s voice held a note of challenge. “You don’t flirt with me like that.”

Tarvek’s eyes narrowed, his expression growing distant. “No… I don’t, do I?” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Shall I start, then?”

“Oh, please do.” Agatha pressed her palm to Tarvek’s chest. The pounding of his heart belied the calm of his voice. “I really must hear you calling Gil your unmatched beauty.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Gil scoffed, but Agatha saw the gleam in Tarvek’s eye. This would be a game between them now.

“She’s right, you know.” Tarvek leaned forward until his chin rested on Agatha’s shoulder. “You are indeed lovely. Why shouldn’t I say it?”

A game Tarvek would always win. Agatha gnawed at her lower lip. What had she unleashed upon poor Gil?

“Stop that.” He sounded terribly uncomfortable.

Tarvek pressed his advantage. Of course he did. “Why?” He stretched the word, almost drawing it out into two syllables.

“It’s awkward.”

“Good awkward or bad awkward?” Tarvek rumbled, his smirk obvious in his voice.

Gil squirmed. “Awkward like an ill-fitted undergarment.”

Tarvek’s hands prowled over Agatha’s skin, raising goosebumps all over her body. She struggled to concentrate on his words. Clearly, he enjoyed this game.

“Gil, my treasure, you hardly ever remember to wear undergarments.”

Agatha buried a laugh in the curve of Tarvek’s neck. Gil shrank back from her, and when he spoke, he sounded sullen. “That’s beside the point.”

“I know, love. I know.” Tarvek had softened his voice to that soothing tone he used when something truly alarmed Gil. Agatha realized she hadn’t heard it in a while. Well, that was something.

“Okay. Good.” Gil was still pouting. Agatha sighed. Was he really upset about this new game? Maybe she could get Tarvek to go a bit easier on him in the future.

Agatha slid her hand down Tarvek’s chest, and she drew a breath to say something, to distract him, but he wasn’t done with Gil yet.

“Anyway, I like it when you forget.”

Gil made a sputtering, choking sound. Agatha jabbed a finger into Tarvek’s ribs. “You stop that,” she scolded. “It’s unsporting not to let him recover before you hit him again.” She relished the way his body shuddered—she must have hit a pressure point. It made her want to climb on top of him, devour him, make him beg for mercy…

Which he would enjoy far too much. No rewarding bad behavior, she reminded herself.

“Of course.” Tarvek met and held her gaze as he inclined his head. “As my lady wishes.”

Oh, well, THAT she would reward. Agatha buried both hands in his hair, and she kissed him.

Tarvek pulled her close against him, kissed her harder. Agatha often thought that while kissing Gil was like a firestorm, Tarvek preferred for her to drown in his passion. She fought for each breath, in the best possible way. She barely noticed Gil’s little yelp of surprise as Tarvek pushed her back against him, across him. He let her come up for air long enough to feel his hand moving against her back, against Gil’s chest. Gil’s breath rushed over her ear in a shuddering sigh, and then Tarvek was kissing her again.

Some part of Agatha’s brain was dimly aware of Gil’s arms sliding around her, Gil’s lips pressing soft kisses to her shoulder. To the fresh bite. Abruptly, Tarvek broke away from Agatha. He half-lunged at Gil, a soft growl rising from deep in his chest. Gil answered with a growl of his own. Agatha squeezed her eyes tightly closed, listening to them, breathing in short, sharp gasps as they crushed her between them. They hadn’t yet fought in the bedroom, but it seemed imminent. Maybe she should stop them…

She didn’t want to stop them.

Gil’s arms tightened around her. Tarvek drew back slightly, the way he did when he was thinking, calculating. Then he lunged forward again. Gil’s growl ended in a squeak of surprise as Tarvek kissed him.

Yes. Pressed between them while they kissed over her shoulder, Agatha smiled to herself. This was perfect.


End file.
